


Deep in the Meadow

by Orca (Orca2)



Category: N/A - Fandom
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 06:00:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10530369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orca2/pseuds/Orca
Summary: ///





	

**Author's Note:**

> finally got around to writing this!!!

  
As black, beady eyes followed his every move with the scrutinizing precision of a hawk's, Shinya decided he had never felt more like an insect on display. In a glass frame with their wings pinned back, as scientists tilted their heads with curiousity, wondering what genetic mistake could ever cause something to look so monstrous.

“I don't have all day,” they said in their dark, drawling voice. A cold shiver ran down his spine, like wet icicles had pricked down the skin of his back.

Shinya forced a smile onto his lips, just barely meeting their gaze. “My apologies... I must've gotten distracted.” He willed his hand to move once again, a silver spoon in its grasp as it continued to stir the white, frothy syrup. The only noise that could be heard was the metal clinking in the bowl and leaves stirred by the occasional gust of wind. It was so silent and nerve-wracking he wanted to scream.

The ever-prominent, illustrious evergreen Holly had already been waiting here when he arrived, in this very spot next to the rose bushes and beneath the canopy of moss, sitting with the stillness of a statue at the stone table. It was quite fitting that he decided to meet in the graveyard, catching on to the implication of his own looming deathbed.

The smell of blooming summer roses and fresh sugarcane was almost enough to ease the tension, as arbitrary as such things might seem. The pink and yellow roses had climbed up the gate, dotting its dreary gray rods with cheerful color.

Shinya watched as the last uneven lumps disappeared into a consistent, gooey substance, raising the spoon to watch it pull and drip.

Kureto was giving him that lifeless, uninterested stare again. Shinya could feel it like needles on his head. Hesitantly, he pushed the bowl forward, sliding heavily against the stone table. He offered him an unsure smile.

Kureto lifted the spoon, a slight tilt to his head as the sugar raced down it. “Is this the way it's usually made?” Nothing moved other than his mouth when he spoke, sort of like a dummy. An observation Shinya would absolutely never state out loud.

“Um, yes, except in a cauldron.” Kureto raised his brow, the most expressive thing he's seen from him all morning. A moment of quiet passed as he inspected it. Apparently satisfied with the answer, he nodded.

He placed the spoon back, watching as it sunk down, down, down.

A small bright-green caterpillar slowly crawled over the slope of his shoulder as he spoke. An amused smile twitched at his mouth before he could process the severity of Kureto's tone. “On another note...” Shinya hung his head, crossing his ankles beneath the table. His folded hands fidgeted in his lap. “I'm fairly certain you can piece together why you're here, so I won't beat around the bush.”

He looked away, swallowing down the lump in his throat. Images of smoke columns filling the sky flashed in his mind, which he tried to shut out by squeezing his lids together.

Shaking his head, Shinya let out a shuddering breath. “I don't know.... I don't know. I just— don't understand.” He bit his lip down.

“From _my_ understanding, this is, what, the fifth time?” Shinya glared at him, tensing as the snide undertone broke through the air.

“I have nothing to do with the blight,” Shinya said in an incisively firm way, vines wrapping around his wrist tightly to try and restrain himself.

He leaned in, slow, like the decades it takes a maple tree to grow.

“I know what actual blight looks like. It isn't picky.” Really, his eyes were more like blackberries, filled with tiny circles and no white. Like an insect eye, which was really just thousands of eyes clumped together. “This, adversely, is very controlled. If it really were running rampant, we'd all be dead by now. Not just vanilla genus.”

Shinya narrowed his eyes, even though his gut screamed to control himself, knowing well all the horrible things they could do to him and easily get away with. “Are you accusing me of murder?”

His eyes were lidded with smugness and violent intentions. “A treason punishable by permanent light deprivation, of course– but first,” he leaned on his palm casually, “I'd like to know how you pulled it off.”

Vines were climbing their way up his arm, digging into his skin with a growing amount of desperation. “I don't know, how _would_ I go about killing my spouses?” Shinya said sourely, practically spitting the words.

He motioned towards the bowl, and Shinya's eyes widened. He tried to retort, but his lungs were refusing to function.

“This has been around for a while, starting back with your family, if I remember correctly.” A question dressed as a statement.

Shinya nodded, reluctantly. More smoke flashed in his mind. “Yes, it's... highly contagious. They got it from mildew in the sugarcane.”

Kureto leaned further forward, a sadistic excitement, like a cat who had just hooked their prey on its claws. “So why aren't _you_ dead?” he drew the words out long.

Shinya fell silent, gazing off towards the vacant section of dirt where the vanilla graves were supposed to go.

“I'm not poisoning them. That was a long time ago, the sugarcane is safe now. Our entire branch works in some area of cultivating it, it's not just me running the show.” His 'entire branch' was still much smaller than the others, the population dwindling within their village gates from disease. Shinya shook his head, again. “I'm sorry, but I don't know why my partners keep dying from it.” 

His dark eyes moved from him to the syrup. Grating against the table, he pushed it towards him. 

“Then, drink it.” 

He looked at the pool of white. Then back up at the Holly.

Shinya picked up the bowl with both hands. They were shaking slightly so he had to pause to make sure he wouldn't spill it. He brought it up to his lips, taking a sip.

When he set the bowl back down, Kureto was wearing a frown marred with disappointment.

He stood, recoiling like a snake.

The caterpillar lost its footing and tumbled to the ground. Without even glancing in its direction, it was smushed beneath his shoe, goey yellow guts squishing out from the sides of his sole.

“Very well,” he said, coldly. “I hope you've wised up, I can only imagine the consequences if the next arrangement ends in ashes.” His shadow loomed over him, blocking the dim light casting through the moss canopy.

“Your expiration date is getting close, Shinya. It's up to you whether or not you want to rot.”

Shinya covered his face with his hands, leaning on his elbows. He let out a choked noise as the sound of receding footsteps grew dimmer and dimmer.

 


End file.
